


Can't We Be Seventeen

by going_going_gone



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, He and Veronia finally get to just be Seventeen, J.D. reforms, Romance, Rough Kissing, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, What-If, based on movie and musical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-12 19:11:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13553769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/going_going_gone/pseuds/going_going_gone
Summary: Let’s be normal, see bad moviesSneak a beer and watch tvWe’ll bake brownies or go bowlingDon’t you want a life with me?J.D. decides he does want a life with Veronica, and he wants to do all the things she asked him to do. it's hard, and he's damaged, but he vows to be better for her. (Basically just them being normal teenagers, hanging out with Heather M, Heather D, and Martha and it's cute. I promise)





	1. Bad Movies

Veronica found the note in her locker before third period, and it made her heart swell.

_“Let’s be normal, see some bad movies.” – J.D._

She’d been hoping beyond hope that J.D. would take her words seriously, that he’d agree to ending this crusade against everyone at Westerburg. This was a good sign, that he was making any sort of an effort. She searched for him at lunch and found him in his ordinary spot in the corner, the only other occupant at his table the same sleeping boy as ever.

Holding up the note, she gave him a small smirk. “Is this your way of asking me out?” she asked.

He returned her grin, giving her a simple nod. “Is this your way of accepting?”

“Maybe. You free tonight?’ she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Might be busy.”

“7/11 calling your name?” she wondered.

He turned serious suddenly, leaning forward in his chair to deepen their eye contact. “Not really looking to feel numb right now.”

Her smirk went wider, opening until she was beaming at him. Knowing that it would get her into a little trouble, she rushed past his table and grabbed the plaid shirt he was wearing until he was standing. The she kissed him like the world was ending. He seemed surprised, but quickly relaxed into it, matching her motions and letting his hands rest on her hips.

“Break it up!” Mrs. Hyde called from across the room. Veronica extracted herself form J.D., not even bothering to throw the history teacher a glance. She ignored the spattering of laughter emanating from the other students.

“So, you’ll be at my house at 6?” she asked. He nodded. “Perfect! You can finally meet my parents.”

Ignoring the panic written across his face, she turned, searching for the Heathers.

Heather McNamara and Heather Duke were seated in the middle of the caf, as usual, so she started making her way over towards them. On her way, Veronica stopped at Martha’s table.

“Hey, Martha!” Veronica chirped, offering her old friend a kind smile.

“Hey Veronica,” Martha replied, although her smile was a little dimmer.

“Wanna sit with me?’ she asked.

Martha looked surprised, and then scared, and then baffled, the quick succession of emotions flitting over her face. “Are you…really?” she asked. “Won’t the Heathers be mad?”

“Who cares?” Veronica asked. “If they want to move, they can. But that’s my table.”

Martha looked unsure, but then Heather McNamara began calling Veronica name, and the decision was made. She rose unsteadily from her seat, clutching her lunch tray with white knuckled fear. The two friends began moving towards the two Heathers.

“Uh-“ Heather McNamara began when she saw who Veronica had brought.

“Martha’s sitting with us now,” Veronica said, her voice ringing with finality.

“What do you think-“

“Don’t try me Duke. I’m in too good a mood for you to be tugging on my dick,” Veronica shot back, smiling as she threw Heather Duke’s words right back at her. Duke must have sensed the line she’d just drawn in the sand, because there were no more words from her. She didn’t leave either.

Lunch was good that day, not the food, but the atmosphere. Duke was mostly silent, obviously pissed that Veronica had invited a nobody to their table, but Heather McNamara, taking her cues from Veronica, seemed thrilled. She really was a nice girl, without negative influencers telling her to be cruel. She and Martha were in biology together, and both were eager to talk about how over the top Mr. Ulysses was.

“Are you doing anything tonight?’ Martha asked her towards the end of the period.

“Yeah actually. J.D. and I are going to see a movie!”

“Oh, is the gas station closed?” Duke asked, still testy from Veronica’s direct challenge to her imagined authority. Still, if anyone could melt Duke’s heart of ice, it was warm, kind Martha.

“No. He’s trying to be more…” she was at a loss for words, unable to explain that J.D. had decided not to murder people any more at her behest.

“Normal,” McNamara asked, but the smile she wore revealed that it hadn’t been meant in a mean-spirited way.

“I guess. I mean, less emo, that’s for sure.”

“Oh!” McNamara exclaimed. “We should help you get ready. It’ll be fun. We can paint your nails and style your hair and everything. Like when Heather-“ her enthusiasm was dampened by thoughts of her dead friend, and Veronica felt the familiar twinge of discomfort, afraid that the specter of Heather Chandler would appear at her shoulder and rail against her for inviting a “loser” to sit at her table. When it didn’t come, she relaxed a little.

“I think that sounds fun. What about you, Martha?” she asked. Martha perked up immediately, agreeing without a second thought. “Heather?” she asked. Duke turned two angry eyes on her, but after a moment, the girl nodded.

“Someone will have to make sure these two won’t make you look like a fucking third grader. I’m the only one with actual style.”

Veronica sighed, but she didn’t press for politeness. That Duke was even agreeing was… _hopeful_.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed.

***

After lunch, word went around school that Mrs. Flemming’s planned “rap-sesh” was canceled. No teachers corroborated the gossip, but she hoped it was true. When the announcement was made she breathed a sigh of relief. The notion of watching a whole room of people wax poetic about Heather, Ram, and Kurt had been troubling, so that was another weight off her shoulders.

Heather McNamara told her that Mrs. Flemming and Coach Ripper had been caught fucking in a broom closet and Principal Gowan had fired them on the spot, hoping to stop any rumours or publicity before it could “further stain the reputation of the school,” as Heather recounted. She couldn’t really manage to feel bad for them, considering how delighted Mrs. Flemming had been to hear that three of her students had killed themselves.

The rest of the day was filled was chaos, considering all the teachers had refrained from planning anything for class to accommodate the event. Once the last bell rung everyone was rushing out the doors. Veronica, Martha, and the other Heathers all piled into Heather Duke’s jeep and drove to the Sawyer residence, laughing because they’d spotted Mrs. Flemming sitting in her VW bug talking to herself on their way out of the parking lot.

“Hello girls!” Mrs. Sawyer said as they entered, smile bright. “Oh! Martha, it’s so good to see you again!”

Veronica knew that her mother had been worried about their friendship, and she was glad to sooth her fears.

“I’ve got a date with J.D. tonight mom.”

“We’re gonna help her get ready!” Heather McNamara said.

“Are you driving yourself?” her mother asked.

“He’s coming to pick me up,” she said. “Maybe you’ll even get to meet him,” she laughed.

“Well it’s been long enough, hasn’t it?”

“Sorry Mrs. Sawyer, but if Veronica’s gonna look good tonight we’d better help her asap.” Heather Duke said, grabbing Veronica’s upper arm and dragging her towards the stairs. Veronica huffed but followed, and McNamara and Martha followed behind, although at a slower pace.

“I don’t look that bad today,” Veronica said as they climbed the stairs. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a totally lost cause.”

“Oh please- Veronica, you’re wearing the same blazer that you wore Monday. And yeah, everyone noticed.”

Veronica knew she didn’t look _great_. She was exhausted, hadn’t had a full night of sleep since…well it had been a while, and she’d just picked an outfit from the closet without looking that morning before school. She also hadn’t touched up her lipstick since she’d kissed J.D. at lunch, so her makeup was probably a mess. Still, arguing with Heather Duke was like second nature.

“I didn’t” Heather McNamara said, shooting Martha a conspirator’s smile.

“Me either,” Martha agreed.

Heather sent them both a scathing glare. “Whatever. Heather, start fixing that mess on her face. I’ll figure out what she’ll wear. Question is, what does _Sid Vicious_ like in his women.”

Veronica couldn’t help the smile she got whenever anyone mocked J.D.’s ridiculous fashion choices. Really, she liked his coat, but it _was_ over the top.

They spent almost   three hours on her, way more than they had to, but Heather McNamara took her time with her makeup in order to teach Martha some basics. It was cute watching her explain blush to a girl who’d never even used mascara. Duke spent most of the evening complaining about how shitty Veronica’s style choices were, but by the end of the mini-makeover she’d chilled out on the rude comments. She was finishing up the last touches on her hair when her mother called up the stairs.

“There’s a very handsome young man here to see you Veronica!” her mother shouted. Veronica felt her cheeks burn, and readied herself for the teasing, but the girls only sent her wide encouraging smiles. Even Duke looked happy.

“Do you mind staying up here until we leave?  Don’t want to embarrass him any more than I have to,” Veronica admitted. She was sure her parents were doing enough to thoroughly spook J.D.

“Sure. Me and Heather can keep going through your closet and making fun of your wardrobe,” Heather Duke laughed. She was holding up a particularly hideous paisley skirt she’d inherited from her mother. Veronica shrugged.

“Veronica!” her mother called again. She gave them a sheepish smile and left the room.

Suddenly she was more nervous than she’d ever been. Any other time she’d spent hanging out with J.D. had been relatively low stakes. Most of their dates took place at 7/11, or his house, or, notably her back yard. An official date felt weightier. She  ran her hands over the mini-skirt of her dress, wondering if it was a little too short before she remembered that J.D. had seen her naked more than a few times.

She walked slowly down the stairs, catching sigh of him about half-way down. He was dressed like usual, in a raggedy plaid shirt over a plan white tank top, his trench coat thick and black over his shoulders, but he’d brushed his hair today, and his cigarettes, if present, weren’t visible. She was grateful for the effort.

Both her mother and father stood beside him at the door, making awkward small talk as they waited for her. Her mother was asking about the movie they were going to see, which hadn’t even occurred to Veronica until then, and her father was smiling bemusedly at the both of them. She reached the landing and they all turned towards her.

“Oh Veronica, you look so beautiful!” her mother gushed, rushing over to pat at her hair. Veronica shook her head to remove herself from her mother’s grasp.

“Mom, you’re gonna mess up all of Heather’s hard work.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. Sorry sweetheart!”

“You look nice, Sawyer,” J.D. said. His eyes were smoldering, and she couldn’t help the smirk she sent him.

“Thanks Dean.”

“Alright kids!” Mrs. Sawyer said, clapping her hands excitedly. “Don’t want to late for the movie, do you?”

They grinned at each other, and Veronica reached out to take his hand.  “I’ll be home later Mom,” she said. “Have a good night!”

“Alright sweetheart. Drive safe and have fun!”

“Sure thing.”

They left the house giddy with anticipation. For what, neither of them knew exactly, but for Veronica, this felt like a new beginning. The beginning to an ordinary life, a normal relationship. She didn’t even care what they were going to see.


	2. Sneak a Beer and Watch TV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some smut, basically. also Bud Dean is a bad father :(

Veronica’s life had changed so much over the last few weeks that she woke up most mornings feeling dizzy and confused, unsure of where she was. It wasn’t a bad thing, really.

It had been, for a time, when she woke up expecting to be carted off to prison, or with J.D. standing over her bed with a gun in his hand.

 She was more scared of the second scenario. The police officers of Sherwood, Ohio had proven just how inept they were, and it didn’t seem likely that they’d get incredibly competent overnight. Still.

Veronica wasn’t scared of J.D. anymore. Mostly. She knew he was _trying_. Trying to grow, trying to change, and trying to forgive the world. Sometimes though, sometimes she worried _about_ him.

***

They’d been at his house, watching TV, each nursing a beer they’d stolen out of the fridge. They were a little buzzed, and it was a Friday night. She’d made it very clear to both Heathers and Martha that they wanted a night alone. The trio, always ready to argue, had called attention to the incredibly important Homecoming game, but Veronica was having none of it. Besides the fact that she never would have been able to get J.D. to attend to a school sponsored sporting event, the Westerburg Rottweiler’s season had taken a turn for the humiliating once they lost their quarterback and their linebacker to double suicide.

She _really_ didn’t need to see the tribute the cheerleaders had put together.

So, they had themselves for company tonight. She delighted in listening to J.D.’s snide comments about what was happening on the screen, but she wasn’t paying attention to it. She was busy counting the freckles on his face and tracing the curve of his jaw with her eyes. If he cared, he didn’t voice any annoyances. Instead, he took his chance to dominate the conversation, harping on and on about the “evils of the media.”

“You sound like Father Tipper. Gonna tell me why Jesus is a cooler dude than Brad Pitt now?”

He scoffed. “Ronnie, the degradation of society is apparent as soon as you tune into _Dynasty_!”

“ _Dynasty_? Geez J.D…”

“What?”

“I mean, I didn’t know you were such a huge fan.”

“I just said I wasn’t!”

“Who talks about _Dynasty_ in normal conversation? Also, I just don’t agree with you. I don’t think _Dynasty_ is the source of everything evil.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know- _Cops_? Or _Dear John_?”

He seemed stunned for a moment, unable to reply. He was opening his mouth, perhaps to defend Dear John, when the door crashed open. They both jumped, watching as Big Bud Dean stumbled in, obviously drunk off his ass and stinking like… Well she couldn’t parse the scent. It seemed to be a mixture of his distinctively strong cologne, vomit, and cheap beer. But that was only her first guess.

“Jason,” his father growled as soon as he had slammed the door behind himself.

“Pops,” J.D. said. He stood up, putting himself in front of her. She was at once touched and scared by his actions. She trusted J.D.’s instincts, and if he was trying to protect her, that meant his father was dangerous right now. She didn’t know what to do if Bud tried to hurt either of them.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Bud asked. He was making his way towards them, steps sloppy and unbalanced. “Jesus, you sleep with a broad and suddenly ya can’t be separated. Little fuckin’ bitch.”

“Dad,” J.D. said, and there was a tenseness in his voice. Her stomach tightened.

Neither of them saw the punch coming. Bud, seemingly too drunk to even walk properly, reached out with lightening reflexes and clobbered his son like he was a prize fighter. J.D. landed on the couch with a thud, and Bud collapsed on the ground. Veronica rushed across the couch to J.D., cradling his face in her hands.

“Are you alright?” she asked. He looked…murderous. He shoved her of of him and stood, rubbing at newly blackened eye.

“No. I’m not.”

Bud was unconscious. It had taken the last of his energy to hit his son. J.D. stood over his father, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“I should fucking kill him. I should _kill_ him. He sees that I’m happy and just needs to ruin it. He ruins _everything_.”

“J.D.,” she snapped, knowing that she needed to stop him from doing something he couldn’t take back. “I know he’s-“

“He’s a destructive, toxic asshole. He drove my mother to kill herself and is trying to do the same thing to me. He’s a waste of space.”

Veronica stared at him from her position on the couch. He’d been doing so _well_. She stood, bracing herself for his anger, and tugged at the back of his shirt, trying to get him away from his father. “Let’s go to bed, J.D.. Please?”

“Ronnie-“ he snapped, yanking away from her.

“Please J.D. take me to bed?” she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him from behind, tucking her head against his back and stroking his chest.

He turned in her arms, staring down at her with his dark eyes still filled with murder. “I won’t let him take me away from you, Ronnie.”

“Good,” she murmured reaching up to nip at his ear. “Leave him here and take me upstairs.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he breathed. His breathing was still coming fast through his nose, but he looked…less angry.

“I’m not trying to be subtle.” She gave him a half-lidded look. “Come on. Just leave him on the floor.

J.D. hesitated for another beat, but when she let her hands graze over the zipper of his pants, he nodded. She led him up the stairs, entwining her fingers with his. He was still upset, still resentful and sad, but now he was also horny. Maybe not the best combination, but she trusted he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t angry at _her_.

As soon as his bedroom door was closed, she jumped him. He barely had time to catch her, his hands supporting her thighs as they crashed back into his door. He sputtered through her kiss, but only needed a small recovery before he was responding with equal passion. His tongue swept through her mouth as if searching for something, and she hummed against his lips. They stayed like that for a few minutes, but after a while, she felt his hands repositioning her. She let herself slide down his body.

“What do you want?” she asked, staring up at him with a loving smile. He needed to decompress, and she wanted to let him have control if that would help. He seemed at a loss. She chuckled. “All of a sudden Jason Dean doesn’t know how to tell people what to do?”

He glared.

Taking the initiative, Veronica sunk to her knees. Kneeling before him, she asked again. “What do you want? Do you want this?”

He nodded.

“Say it.”

“I want this,” he said, voice husky. She could read him like an open book. He knew what she was doing, and he didn’t care. He wanted this distraction.

“Good.” With that, she undid his jeans, popping his button and sliding down his zipper with quick, efficient movements.

She’d only ever gone down on someone once before, and that had been J.D., but he’d really liked it the first time, and she had an intimate knowledge of his likes and dislikes, so she was confident in her abilities, with him if not with anyone else.

“God, Ronnie, I love you,” he told her as she pulled his jeans and his underwear down in one yank. He was already hard, and she let out a breath across the sensitive skin. He winced.

“Are you just saying that to get me to sleep with you?” she joked. He didn’t reply, and when she glanced up from his dick she saw his closed eyes and tight smile, the only acknowledgement her joke got.

She took him in hand, giving him a sharp stroke, just to startle him. It did the job, provoking a sharp grunt from him. She smiled before taking him into her mouth.

She wasn’t gentle with him, she was never gentle with him, but he made no complaints. She didn’t take very much of him into her mouth at first, adjusting to the feeling of his cock in her mouth, licking the underside, tracing the head with the tip of her tongue. Once she was confident, though, she began to play a little game with herself, trying to go further and further each time. His sharp moans were all the encouragement she needed as she sucked at none too softly.

“Ronnie,” he hissed. “I don’t want-“

She stopped immediately. “What?”

“I want you, I want you.”

She grinned, understanding his meaning. She shoved her shirt over her head as quickly as possible, standing as soon as it was gone. He smiled at her once she was level with him, stealing a kiss before he began walking her back towards the bed.

“I wanna be inside you,” he elaborated, even though it was unnecessary. They landed on the bed as he pushed her down. They bounced once, and she felt the brush of his cock at her stomach. Her insides squirmed in delight.

“I know,” she said. He reached under her skirt, drawing her panties down gently. His fingers were like ghosts over her skin, and if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was teasing her. Frustrated, she took his wrist and yanked, pulling her underwear down to her thighs.

He slipped a finger inside of her with ease. “God you’re so hot,” he whispered. She reached up to nip at his neck, not being very careful with her teeth.

The feeling of his cock sinking into her was ecstasy, and she couldn’t help the high whine that left her mouth as he did. It only seemed to egg him on.

His first few thrusts were slow, but she urged him on faster, nails scraping at the skin of his ass. He reached between them and stroked at her clit, much to gently.

“Harder,” she growled. He responded both in his strokes and his thrusts.

His attention to her clit increased as he began pounding into her, each of his movements eliciting a noise from her.

“Our love is God,” he told her, opening his brown eyes to meet her own. She smiled.

“Our love is God,” she agreed.

The phrase took on new meaning when they were like this. Their love was all-powerful, but so was this. He worked her over like an artist painting a masterpiece, his fingers nimble and talented.

She came a few seconds before him, squeezing his hips with her legs, nails finding any skin she could to mark him as her hers.

They collapsed against the bed on their sides, panting, sharing the air, and smiling.

“Nice distraction, huh?” she asked, giving him a sly smile.

“Better than TV. Better than anything.”

She laughed. “You’ve never seen Dynasty, have you?”

He only smiled.


	3. We'll Bake Brownies

“Veronica, we bake together all the time!” Martha had complained over the phone.

“Martha, I hated it every time. I just did it because _you_ liked it.”

“You never told me that,” she’d argued. “And I really need help. If I’m going to make enough brownies by tomorrow I need more then me and my mom. Heather McNamara already told me she wanted to. You just need to convince Heather Duke.”

“I just really don’t-“ Veronica had been unable to come up with a proper excuse, but she’d had to try. She _really_ hated baking. It was great, spending time with Martha, but she was inept in the kitchen. The raw amount of  cookies she had burned throughout middle and high school was staggering.

“You can bring J.D.! My mom won’t mind, if he doesn’t come in my room. And he’ll have to leave by 7:30.” Martha’s parents had strict rules about having boys over. It had never really been an issue before, but they’d have to start keeping that in mind from now on.

And that was how they ended up in the Dunnstock’s kitchen, Heather Duke, Heather McNamara, J.D., and her all watching Martha gather all the dry ingredients for brownies, blondies, cookies, and cupcakes with practiced efficiency.

“Come on, it’s not rocket science,” Martha cajoled. She’d gotten more and more confident around their small group of friends, although she was still shy at school. Plus, the kitchen was _her_ place. Martha was an amazing baker, an excellent cook, and sometimes, a cruel taskmaster when it came to ovens and mixing bowls.

“I’m not complaining because it’s difficult,” Heather Duke snapped. “I’m complaining because it’s lame. I mean, why does the art club even need to have a bake sale. Does drawing weird cartoons really cost that much?”

“We’re going to a museum in Columbus!” Martha chirped. She’d been talking about it for days, and Heather Duke knew that.

Veronica grinned. “The always glamorous Columbus, Ohio.”

Martha rolled her eyes.

“Why not just buy this stuff? Why do we have to make it?” Heather Duke complained. She still did a lot of that.

“There’s no love in store-bought cookies!” Martha admonished. The look on her face made it seem like Heather had asked why they couldn’t make cookies out of J.D.’s guts.

“There’s also no food poisoning ‘em either,” J.D. snarked. Heather Duke sent him an amused smile.

“There won’t be any unsafe food practices going on today, Mr. Smart-Pants!”

J.D. gave Martha a bemused smile at the ferocity of her answer.

“Martha doesn’t allow any bullshit in her kitchen,” Veronica laughed. “She’s a hard-ass about salmonella.”

“Language, Ronnie. My parents are gonna be home soon!” Martha reminded her. Veronica nodded in apology. “J.D., wash your hands, and then preheat the oven.”

“Why do I have to wash my hands? What about Heather?” he exclaimed, voice filled with mock-outrage.

Martha didn’t reply, turning to one of the huge mixing bowls and beginning to premeasure the dry ingredients out. J.D. muttered, but stomped over to the sink.

“Ronnie, will you get me the eggs?”

“What can I do?” Heather McNamara finally spoke up, smiling brightly. She was the one who’d _wanted_ to help in the first place.  

“Wanna grease some pans?” Martha asked. Heather nodded quickly.

J.D. finished washing up by shaking his wet hands at Veronica. She giggled, but Martha looked up with an imperious expression. “Good job J.D. The oven needs to be preheated to 325 degrees.”

Veronica laughed even more when she realized that Martha was treating him like a teacher treats a problem child in kindergarten. Lots of praise and a strict set of goals. Come to think of it, Martha would probably make a good elementary school teacher.

“What should I do?” Heather Duke asked, beyond frustrated with this endeavor before they’d even really begun.

“Help Heather with the pans,” Martha said, glancing up to offer Duke a smile. “Ronnie, I need those eggs.”

Veronica hurried across the room to the fridge, opening the door in search of eggs. She laughed when she saw that Martha had stocked up. There were four dozen eggs stacked neatly on the top shelf, all extra-large. She nabbed a carton off the top and hurried it over to the center island that dominated the Dunnstock kitchen.

“Thanks. Now, get J.D. to help you with the wet ingredients while I sift the flour.”

“I thought we were doing brownies first?” Veronica asked.

“Ronnie, you always sift the flour. For everything. We don’t want lumps.”

“Yeah, _Ronnie_. We don’t tolerate lumps in this family,” Heather McNamara giggled.

The kitchen erupted into laughter for a moment, while they all reeled at Heather’s quirky attempt at humor. Veronica marveled at how Heather opened up around Martha, like they had always been friends.

“Oh, Martha! Didn’t expect you all in here at once!” Mrs. Dunnstock had come through the kitchen door with a look of outright joy on her face.  “Good to see you Ronnie.”

“Hey Mrs. Dunnstock.”

Martha’s mom was an effusively happy woman, with rosy cheeks, big hair, and a rotating cast of huge earrings that Veronica was always thrilled to see.

“And who are your other friends?” Mrs. Dunnstock asked. Her eyes lingered worriedly on J.D. for a beat too long, but her smile didn’t budge

“Mom, this is Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and that’s J.D.” Martha introduced the with a vague wave of her hand, cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all! And it’s good to see you, again, Veronica. You probably want the kitchen to yourselves though, right?”

“Yeah mom. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Martha murmured, focusing intently on the cocoa powder she was tipping into the huge bowl.

Mrs. Dunnstock left the kitchen with a cheery wave, and the kitchen fell to silence for a moment.

“Your mom seems great! She’s way nicer than mine,” Heather McNamara said after a moment. Martha shot her an odd look, but Heather Duke nodded.

“ _Way_ nicer than you mom, Heather.”

They all laughed at that, and the activity started back up again.

Once Veronica and J.D. began working on the wet ingredients, everything sort of devolved into chaos though. It was a good kind of chaos. Martha was practically barking orders at the Heathers, the Heathers were giggling and messing around with the butter, and J.D. kept swiping little bits of icing from a bowl Martha had already prepared and left to sit on the counter.

It felt good, it felt easy, and they were all riding the high of it when the third or fourth batch of brownie batter went into the oven. J.D. was nursing a batter covered wooden spoon when they moved onto the cookies. They collectively ate about half the cookie dough, the Heathers both waiting for Martha to turn before they grabbed any while J.D. didn’t bother hiding his thievery. Veronica, used to baking with Martha, didn’t want to risk her ire, but there wasn’t really any point. Martha was in too good a mood to yell at anyone for it.

They had a massive amount of baked goods by the time they were done, and if Martha had been worried about them eating it all, she didn’t need to be. They’d had their fill with the unbaked batter, and even the sight of the perfectly baked brownies made Veronica’s stomach jump unpleasantly.

“Those little nerds had better be grateful for these things,” Heather Duke said, leaning against Heather McNamara from their place on top of the center island. She was holding her stomach and looking queasy.

“And if there’s a single unsold brownie on that table tomorrow afternoon I’m going to scream,” Veronica agreed.

“It’ll be perfect!” Heather McNamara chirped. “Everyone’s gonna love them! We did an awesome job.”

“You know Heather,” J.D. said, staring at her from beneath his fringe of hair, grumpy because of the way his stomach hurt, no doubt, “sometimes I forget you’re a cheerleader. And then, you talk. And I remember.”

Veronica elbowed him, joyful when he groaned in pain. “Be nice, J.D. Heather’s right. We did a good job. Martha’s a hard ass, but she gets results.”

“Thanks Ronnie,” Martha said with a blush.

“No problem.”

“So, it’s only 6 o’clock. We still have an hour and a half before J.D. is outlawed from the Dunnstock household. What should we do?”

“Oh, we could watch a movie!” Heather McNamara suggested.

“Princess Bride!” Martha exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

J.D. and Heather Duke both groaned in despair, but it was too late. There was no getting Martha to budge when it came to the Princess Bride.”

“At least we won’t have to see the whole thing,” Veronica whispered to him as they all filed out of the kitchen. “Gotta get you out of the house before you turn into a pumpkin.”

“Wrong princess,” J.D. muttered. Veronica laughed. She'd laughed a lot lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line is just me realizing that I write about Veronica laughing a lot more in this than in any other fic I've written about Heathers. That's both sad and exciting for me. Anyway, let me know what you thought of this one. Short, I know, but there's more to come.


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